


What Hats are For

by Louffox



Category: Jacksepticeye (RPF), Markiplier (RPF), Youtube (RPF)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, Slow Build, cuteness, this is so silly I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hats are for keeping your ears warm. Or hiding a bad hair day. Or accessorizing. </p><p>Or, you know, passing as a real boy. Poor Jack just wanted to have a fun time in LA, enjoy the con, visit friends, and sleep in a hotel room. This is all probably Wade's fault, somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Website Maitenance

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my good goodie goodness I'm actually writing a multi-chapter septiplier fic? Imagine that. How very strange.
> 
> Something occurred to me last week and I couldn't resist writing about it. Please take everything with a grain of salt- I'm going more for comedic than... other things. Just sit back and giggle. It's gonna be adorable. It's gonna be silly.

Jack crossed his legs. Then he uncrossed them. Then he folded his knee up to his chest. The woman to his left looked at him with undisguised disdain, so he put both feet flat on the floor and tried to sit like an actual normal adult.

Right. Okay.

He was normally a rather fidgety person- constantly in motion, like stillness wasn’t worth consideration. It usually wasn’t a nervous fidget, or an excessively energized fidget, it was just that he was so full of life that not expressing that life was offensive to his limbs.

But at that moment, it was definitely a nervous fidget.

Planes didn’t scare him. He wished it was just the plane that was making him nervous. A few seats down, a man had a white-knuckled grip on the armrests, and his body was pressed back against the seat as if he could fuse with it. Jack’s own hands were limp and relaxed in his lap. He flew often enough, and he didn’t have a fear of heights. Planes weren’t the cause of his nerves. It was what lie at the end of the flight that made him shift and jostle.

He’d promised his viewers that he’d go to a few more cons, and so there he was, flying to Los Angeles. America.

America had always struck him as a rather turbulent country. Everything was extremes there- people were filthy rich or dirt poor. They were morbidly obese or had damn near impossibly perfect bodies. They ate grease and starch, or they ate nothing but watermelon and starbucks. The politics were corrupt and cutthroat, half the country was a freezing wasteland and the other was firey desert, everyone was either a movie star, a cowboy, or a redneck. Everyone drank strong booze and had guns and had promiscuous sex and wore absurd clothing. Gay was fashionable and fashionable was gay, and sunglasses were appropriate 24/7. Also, a single state could be the size of Ireland or larger.

America was amazing and terrifying and wonderful. It made him hunger for his childhood cabin in the woods, and at the same time, yearn to be part of the lights and rush and ceaseless motion. He liked motion. He liked noise. Unlike many Europeans, he liked America. (However, his affection for the strange world power was tempered- he'd read enough sci-fi books to maintain a healthy fear for american government and science.)

But the con made him nervous. Large crowds usually did. Hell, most actual IRL encounters made him nervous. There was a reason his most successful relationship had been long distance, and why he didn’t do all that many cons or live sketches or meetups. It was a very good reason.

The same reason, in fact, that his mother often called him ‘Jack’.

When the plane landed, he hurried to get his things so as to get out of the way of the scowling woman to his left. The airport was unsurprisingly busy, but he managed to get his luggage and get out without any noteworthy screw ups. Standing on the sidewalk, waiting for a free cab, he pulled out his phone and turned it off airplane mode. Several notifications rushed in, and he opened the text first.

_Mark: Let me know when you land! Brick oven pizza house tonight. Real american food. Drunken adventures after, maybe. Welcome to LA!_

He finally got a cab, told the driver the address, and replied with a snapchat rather than a text.

 _Jack: LA I’M INSIDE YOU_ he captioned, with his best angry face. The driver didn’t even look back or blink. A reply came almost immediately.

_Mark: Should I give you some privacy with LA_

_Jack: lol maybe I’m just really stoked. I’ll call you after I’ve checked in._

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

"What do you mean, no rooms? I booked this like three weeks ago!"

"I'm very sorry, sir. Did you book online? Between the 10th and the 13th this month?"

"Yeah, online, it was a Monday, I think."

"We had website maintenance those three days, and it's not unlikely that it didn't go through."

Jack scoffed and fumed, but he knew it wasn't the poor receptionist's fault, it was just bad luck. Eventually he thanked her for the coupon for his next visit and turned down her offer to call a few other hotels and inquire about rooms for him, and went out to the sidewalk. He called Mark.

"Jack! You ready for dinner?"

"Er. Not really. I've just been told that I in fact don't have a room booked."

"What? Why not?!"

Jack explained the situation, leaning on his suitcase and pushing his sunglasses up to rub his eyes.

"Man, that sucks! Did you find another hotel?"

"No, not yet, I was hoping you'd be able to recommend a place to me. With the con starting in two days, I have no idea how I'm going to find a decent room."

"Okay, tell you what, I'll come pick you up and we'll put your luggage in the trunk, and we'll get dinner and do some searching. You sound stressed as all hell and nothing gets done well on an empty stomach. We can work together with it!"

"Alright, that sounds better than any ideas I've got at the mo, come save my distressed damsel ass," he said, brightening at the mention of pizza. He told him what hotel he was at, and waited patiently, checking all his other notifications and taking another angry selfie for Instagram.

A few minutes later, a car pulled over in front of him. "Hey there, you're a fine piece of ass, want a ride?" Mark drawled, leaning out the window and pushing his.

“You can’t afford me,” Jack shot back, dragging his suitcase to the back. “Pop the trunk.”

Luggage loaded and both occupants buckled, neither of them seemed able to stop grinning.

“I actually have a way better idea than to just try to search for another hotel,” Mark began. “Also, hey, hi, hello. Good to see you again. Hug hug, kiss kiss.”

“Likewise! What’s your idea?”

“I got a call from Wade on my way over. Well, not from Wade, from Molly. Wade couldn’t actually call because he was kissing the porcelain throne.”

“What?”

“Kissing the porcelain throne- getting all personal with the toilet. As in gratuitous barfing.”

“Oh, gross.”

“Yeah. He’s got some godawful stomach bug so he’s not coming. He was supposed to board a plane about now and arrive late tonight, but that’s not happening. And Bob wasn’t planning on coming at all because this isn’t all that big of a con- I’m actually kind of surprised you decided to come- and his cousin is getting married.”

“Well, shit, the trio is all gone to shit this time.” He didn’t bother adding that part of the reason he came was because it was small. And partly because it was close to LA and he was maybe looking for an excuse to see Mark again.

“Yeah, it’s just me this time. Me and you! So I figured- I had everything all set up for Wade, he usually sleeps on an air mattress, and I always make french toast for breakfast when friends are staying, I’ve got all that all ready and suddenly Wade can’t make it, and you’re here and homeless? It’s perfect!”

“Dude! That would be awesome!” Jack cried, beaming. His smile faltered for a second as his initial reaction subsided to logic- he didn’t do sleepovers, he did not do sleepovers, he did NOT do sleepovers, especially not with Mark- but he continued to smile. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not actually homeless, I can afford a hotel room even if it’s racked up for the con and it’s last minute-,”

“Jack, don’t be stupid. I have everything already together for Wade, you gonna make me put all that hard work of blowing up an air mattress go to waste?”

“You have a pump! That’s electric! You literally just plug it in!”

“I also had to unscrew the plug and screw it back in.”

“Oh, good lord, that’s a lot of work, I absolutely can’t let that go to waste.”

“Good. Then after supper we’ll go get your stuff put into my apartment, and then out for drinks. Daniel and Ryan are probably gonna come too.”

“Alright, cool!”

The idea of sharing a living space was a little frightening. But he forced his face not to show it and went to dinner with the usual casual chatter. They ordered a big fire-baked pizza with sausage, mushrooms, and onions. They merrily argued whether to get jalapeños or not, and finally decided banana peppers were a good middle ground.

While they waited, Jack dismissed himself for a trip to the loo. He went into the bathroom, delighted to find it was a single, and locked the door.

He pulled his hat off with a sigh, unfolding his ears and scratching them soothingly.

He did have to pee, but mostly he'd just come to readjust. A 14 hour flight left his head aching and itchy, from being tucked under his hat. Living alone and working as a YouTuber, he'd spoiled himself- sure, he kept his ears tucked when he was recording, but he could take breaks whenever he wanted, and he usually recorded for a few hours a day. Editing, replying to comments, and uploading, he was free to free his ears. When he was in school and when he was working normal jobs, an 18-hour stint with them tucked away was pretty normal, but he hadn't done that in a long while.

He wondered what shit Mark was going to give him for sleeping with a beanie on, but he had no choice. He hadn't planned on it, but then, he'd planned on having a private hotel room.

He scratched them and let them flex and stretch for as long as he dared, then for another minute, before folding them back and tucking them beneath his hat again. Feeling a little better, he returned to their table to find their drinks had arrived. He slugged down half his lemonade immediately.

"Nice to use a proper bathroom and wash my face after a long-ass flight," he said per explanation. "And drinks on flights are so stupid expensive. I mean, I can afford them, but it feels like such a waste."

"I know, right? I wish I could just hide a soda and some twizzlers under my jacket, but security is a bit tighter than your average movie theater."

"You fly all the time, too."

"I know. It kind of sucks, but I seem to have an inability to say no."

"You're getting more famous by the day now, too- seems like you're hitting another million every other month now."

"It's nuts, how once you start getting big, it just skyrockets. I mean, my channel growth is exponential now. I get more subs every day."

"Did you graph it?”

“No! Yeah,” he laughed.

“On your graph paper notebook?”

“Absolutely not, the pages are way too small and graphing by hand is stupid. I used excel.”

“Engineers use excel?”

“Of course. Why not?”

“I dunno, I thought you’d have a special 3D graphing program thingie for it.”

“Why would I make a 3D graph? There were only two axis needed, subs and time.”

“Well, whatever. I probably could’ve used MathCAD,” he mused, raising an eyebrow and mindlessly ripping his paper napkin ring into little pieces. Jack ripped an edge off his and began folding it into a tiny lotus flower.

“You still up for collabs tomorrow? We could play a few extra too, since Wade isn’t here,” Mark said.

“Absolutely! What games were you planning on playing with Wade?”

“I was hoping to actually live film playing Cards Against Humanities with Daniel, Ryan, you, and Wade, so that’s one. Table Tug, of course, but you’ll have to pick a different game because that’s exclusive to Wade and I, and I don’t want it to seem like you’re replacing him. GTA, maybe. Whatever we had time for,” he shrugged.

“I don’t want to do Table Tug or any of those other carnival-like games, those are you and Wade’s thing,” Jack agreed. He put the little lotus flower on the crushed red pepper shaker.

“Oh, cool! Did your girlfriend teach you that?” Mark marveled, picking it up and examining it.

“That’s racist.”

“I can’t be Korean racist, I’m half Korean.”

“That’s ignorant as all hell,” Jack laughed. “And yeah, she did… but she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, man,” Mark said quickly, reaching out and touching his hand gently, just for a second, long enough of a touch for it to be a comforting gesture, but not too long to be uncomfortable.

“Don’t be, it’s fine. You didn’t know. I should probably mention it on my channel or something, but I don’t want to invite any rumor or speculation, or sound like I’m using the internet as a bitch pulpit. Maybe I’ll casually mention it when I’m playing Sims, weave it in there all side-note-like. We’re still friends, we didn’t, like, unfriend each other on facebook and instagram and all, we just realized that we weren’t getting any closer and everything had sort of plateaued, and neither of us were willing to give up our careers or homes to join the other. It’s for the best,” he said confidently.

It had been the smoothest breakup he’d ever had, and it actually didn’t change their relationship much- they’d always been more of a friendly couple than a romantic couple. And she had been so sweet and apologetic when she’d asked to start seeing other people, he couldn’t be upset. It just hadn’t worked, and that was all fine- it wasn’t anyone’s fault, it just wasn’t the right fit, and that was okay.

“That sounds like it went really well, for being a breakup,” Mark said, impressed.

“It did. I mean, we were kind of already just friends- we were just friends with the title of a couple. We didn’t do couple things and we weren’t super romantic, we just liked each other’s company.”

“Oh. Well, I’m just glad everyone is happy and okay.”

“Me too. But I didn’t want to move to Korea, even if I could’ve kept up my channel there, and she didn’t want to move to Ireland, where she’d have to give up her job. So that’s that. Sorted. Anyways, how’s the romantic scene with you?”

“I’m thinking of getting a dog,” Mark said cheerfully, and they both laughed. Just then, the pizza arrived.

 

 

 

\------------

Edit: Firstly, I only just learned that Jack and his girlfriend broke up. I wrote the first five pages of this over a week ago, I am in no way celebrating or encouraging their breakup. I will not discuss with anyone anything about their breakup- he asked for nothing but privacy and respect, and for all that he gives us, I should hope we would be able to give him that. No theorizing, no 'feel better soon' stuff, no heckling or chatter. Just leave it be.

Second, THIS IS NOT A FURRY THING. I'm just making jokes and laughter about something that occurred to me- a pun with his name, Jack. I'm being vague on purpose, I learned a few years ago that when it comes to appearance details, less is more; nobody likes to read three paragraphs describing outfit (or fur) color and style. But, I repeat, this is  _not a furry thing_. Jack is not half-animal or anything. He's just a normal dude with a little physical inconvenience. Don't take it super seriously- laugh about it! We'll get to more details later, when they're relevant, but for now, I'm not spending several hundred words on describing things that we can all hear about later, in a more fluent manner.

Third, I have a tumblr- fauxfoxfanatics -and I have a few other short septiplier stories. I've only posted one on my tumblr, all are posted here on AO3 so feel free to go peek at those, if you like wintertime, sickfics, the color blue, or cooking. Anyone can feel free to contact me on my tumblr if they have anything they want to chat about.


	2. And Then God Said, Let There Be Flirtinis

“Oh. Well, I’m just glad everyone is happy and okay.”

“Me too. But I didn’t want to move to Korea, even if I could’ve kept up my channel there, and she didn’t want to move to Ireland, where she’d have to give up her job. So that’s that. Sorted. Anyways, how’s the romantic scene with you?”

“I’m thinking of getting a dog,” Mark said cheerfully, and they both laughed. Just then, the pizza arrived.

After more chatting and enjoying the pizza, they paid the bill and went back to Mark’s apartment. Jack realized he’d never actually been there before- his last visit to LA had been a hurricane of panels and tabling and restaurants and pubs, he hadn’t had the chance.

“My humble abode. What’s mine is yours- I’m not here to wait on you, if you want a drink or a snack or anything, help yourself. Bathrooms- I’ve got one downstairs and one upstairs. My bedroom and recording room are upstairs, living room and kitchen are down here. You can put your stuff wherever, you can see I’m not all that tidy,” Mark said breezily, putting Jack’s small duffel beside the couch. “I’ve got the air mattress all set up over here, in the living room. It gets a little bright here when the sun rises, but the air mattress doesn’t fit well anywhere else. It’s a big air mattress- I mean, it has to fit Wade.”

“Fatass,” Jack said merrily, dragging in his bag. “Do both bathrooms have a shower?”

“No, just the upstairs one.”

“This is a really nice place. I thought even the crap apartments in LA were expensive as hell.” He plunked his suitcase down beside the massive air mattress. It was covered with several homemade, welcoming quilts.

“What can I say? I’ve got a fantastic job,” Mark laughed, lounging against the kitchen counter and pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna text Daniel and Ryan and ask when they wanna go out.”

“I don’t know why, but when I heard they were getting an apartment in LA, I just kind of concluded that you all lived on the same floor in the same building or something,” Jack realized. “Obviously not.”

“Nope. LA is a big place.”

Jack dropped down on the air mattress, stretching. “Nice quilts.”

“Thank Grammyplier. It probably looks unnecessary now, but it cools down a lot at night.”

They were silent for a moment as they were both on their phones- Jack went onto twitter to update what was going on. He was careful to just say it was a technical error that resulted in the loss of his hotel room. It was still mind-boggling, the amount of people who listened to him, who took him seriously. The last thing he wanted was a few million angry internet-savvy folk to bash the hotel. He didn’t mention the hotel name either, just to be safe.

“Selfie?” he asked Mark, getting to his feet. His friend grinned.

“Fuckyeah.”

“Are we smiling or derping?”

“Let’s go for a really vacant sort of smile. Like a shitty 80’s infomercial guy smile.”

Jack let his eyes go half shut and put on a really fake awful smile, and Mark did the same. He looked about four inches above his phone camera to take it, and cackled at the result.

“We look fucking brain damaged,” he observed, cropping it and putting it on instagram. _Got homeless temporarily. Luckily this kind stranger took me in, gave me a bowl of water and a cushion to sleep on,_ he captioned. He uploaded it, and looked up to see Mark had been taking a slow-zoom video of him instagramming, and made his eyes huge with mock horror. Mark laughed and ended the video, and a minute later, it appeared on Jack’s instagram feed. _He followed me home so I’m keeping him,_ it said.

“Daniel and Ryan are ready to go whenever we are,” Mark said.

“I’m good to go.”

“Let’s go, then. We’re just walking- it’s a bar not far from here, kind of halfway between my place and Cyndago’s. Two blocks, about.”

They went to the pub- heatedly arguing the whole way about pubs vs bars- and decided to order drinks immediately, rather than wait for Daniel and Ryan.

"I'm gonna get hard judgement if I order a flirtini, aren't I?" Jack said, grinning.

"I'm no hypocrite," Mark said wryly, before turning and flagging down the bartender. "Mango flirtini, please, I'd like to open a tab."

Jack cackled, and ordered a raspberry flirtini, starting a tab as well. When they got their drinks, they found a booth and sat down.

"I've never seen a mango one of these before," Jack said curiously.

"Here, try a sip," Mark said amiably, passing him the bright orange drink. Jack took a swig, and his brows went up.

"Holy shit, that's good. I know what I'm getting next."

"Hey guys!" The pair looked up to see Daniel and Ryan coming over, dropping their jackets on the bench across from them. "What are you ladies drinking?"

"Flirtinis. I've got raspberry, he's got mango. Wanna try a sip?"

Daniel looked skeptical, but both of them tasted each.

"Jesus, that's amazing," Ryan conceded. Sure enough, they came back with the tall glasses as well.

Jack hadn't met Ryan and Daniel, but he wasn't nervous- he knew Mark was an excellent judge of character, so any friends of his were probably great people. They all got along swimmingly, and Jack settled in comfortably, nursing a pale cider and enjoying a good buzz and some good company.

"But I thought the Irish drank beer like water."

"Oh, we do!"

"But you're drinking mixed drinks and cider," Ryan said, as though Jack hadn't noticed.

"That's because I'm in Rome."

"You're in LA!" Mark said, laughing as though it was the funniest thing.

"I fucking know that, ya doof! I mean, when in Rome and all that. America isn't known for it's beer; Ireland is. So drinking beer in America, when I'm used to the sweet nectar of Ireland, would just be disappointing."

"That makes sense. I'm gonna get some nachos, should I get enough to share?" Daniel asked.

"If you put food in front of me, I will eat it," Jack said.

"Large order of nachos it is, then," Daniel said, getting up to go.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom, be right back," Mark said, following him out of the booth.

"So you're staying with Mark?" Ryan asked conversationally.

"Yep! The hotel room I booked mysteriously vanished, as a result of website maintenance, but everything kind of worked out. For me, at least. Poor Wade," Jack said with a guilty laugh.

"So you're sleeping on the couch?"

"Air mattress, actually. Mark has guests pretty frequently, so he's got everything down to an art. Did you think I'd be sleeping on the welcome mat, by my water bowl? Don't believe everything you hear on the internet."

Ryan started giggling. "No, I wasn't sure if you'd be, y'know, sharing."

"Sharing?" Jack repeated blankly. He was a little drunk.

"Yeah, like... sharing a bed."

"Why would we-"

"Nachos! Yes! We have nachos!" Daniel cheered, dropping a massive plate of chips, beans, peppers, and cheese in the middle of the booth and slid in beside Ryan.

"Oh, yes," Jack crooned, grabbing a chip heavy with toppings.

"I think we need something in our stomachs,  I'm a little more drunk than I should be," Ryan laughed. Jack nodded, mouth full of nacho.

Mark returned and slid in beside Jack, reaching out and batting at Jack's cheeks with damp hands.

"Don't'cha hate it when you pee on your hands," he taunted.

"You're a fuckin child," Jack told him, wiping at his cheeks.

"A child who has a big nice  apartment that you happen to be in need of," Mark shot back.

They continued drinking until last call, and finally managed to wander their respective ways.

 

 


	3. The Mandatory 'It's Late and We're Drunk' Heart-to-Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of mature content here. I mean, nothing to blush at, but probably not for little tykes to read.

They continued drinking until last call, and finally managed to wander their respective ways.

"I'm drunk," Mark sighed, content. Jack stretched his arms over his head, pulling his spine and relishing the cool LA night air.

"I think I'm drunk too," Jack decided. "This sidewalk is too narrow."

"It is, isn't it?" Mark agreed. "When we get back, we're both having two glasses of water and a few ginger snaps. Hangover preven-nen-entitive… It’ll keep it from happening."

"That's your trick? Water and cookies?"

"Yep. Water for headaches, and they're a specific brand of ginger cookies- made with real ginger. They make you not sick. Soothe your stomach. You could just take a ginger pill but the cookie helps  absorb the booze."

"Well, I'll see how effective it is in the morning. I don't get hangovers often, but I usually stick to beer, not mixed stuff."

"You'd better not be hungover, you're gonna need every ounce of skill for all the collabs we're gonna do tomorrow."

"Are you kidding? Maybe I ought to have two glasses of whiskey instead of water, your only chance is me being handicapped by a hangover."

"You're all talk."

"I'm all boss, babydoll," Jack lisped teasingly.

Mark got the snickers that devolved into a full-out uncontrollable fit of laughter, leaving him staggering along with his arms wrapped around his middle, shoulders shaking and eyes watering.

"It wasn't that funny," Jack said. Mark stopped walking and laughed harder.

"You! You w-walked right past it," Mark stuttered.

“What?”

“This is my building. You just- you just kept going!”

“How was I supposed to know? Everything looks the same in America. Gray cement,” Jack huffed, walking back.

“Excuse you, America is a varied stirring pot country. Or whatever.”

“Stirring pot?”

“I don’t fucking know, I just know that’s what the phrase every history book ever tells us,” Mark grumbled. They made their way up to Mark’s apartment, and Mark walked right in and tipped over onto the couch. “I don’t think I’m getting up.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Jack wandered over and fell onto the air mattress, then got back up. “Wait! What about water and cookies?”

“Right, right,” Mark grumbled, getting up. He went to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of water and a box of ginger snaps tucked under his arm, and plopped back down on the couch. “Here.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, taking the water bottle and cracking it open. He took a swig, and Mark opened the box of cookies, taking a few out.

Jack accepted a few as well, and crunched on them. “These are the crunchiest, hardest cookies ever.”

“Taste fantastic though,” Mark said, spewing crumbs, then spewing more when he burst into laughter.

“You’re a pig,” Jack laughed.

“Yeah, because you’re a total princess. I’ve seen your apartment when we skype and you walk around with your phone. You’re a bachelor, just like me,” Mark pointed out.

“Cheers to that, man. Sort of,” he said, and they tapped their water bottles together.

“Yeah, sort of. I mean, having a girlfriend is nice too,” Mark sighed, drinking his water.

Jack snorted. “You mean, getting some?”

“Not just that- I'm not that kind of douche- but yeah, that too. It's been a while.”

“You’re Sexiplier, you could get whatever you wanted.”

Mark swung back so he was lying down again, setting the box of cookies on the floor beside him. “Shut up. I mean, I don’t want to sound conceited- but I know the reality is that I’m… desirable. I’ve got lots of opportunities to get some, but I just… I’m not a big fan of meaningless sex. I just can’t get into it, y’know?”

“Maybe you’re a little demi,” Jack mused, lying down on his air mattress.

“What did you just call me?” Mark said, sounding offended. Jack shook his head.

“Jesus, man, you’ve got to spend a little more time on tumblr. Or I’ve gotta spend a little less time there,” he laughed. “Demisexual. It’s when you have to form an emotional connection before you can feel any sexual attraction. It’s like… It’s…”

“It’s like you can’t have sex with strangers? You can only have sex with someone when you genuinely care for them, not just physically?” Mark guessed.

“Exactly! That, just like that!”

“Well, then, maybe I’m a little demisexual,” Mark laughed. “What about you?”

“I mean, I’ve had casual, meaningless sex before,” Jack shrugged. “It’s no thing. It can be fun, I like to try different things and not go like, years without sex. I like to have an active, healthy sex life. I don’t see a problem with casual sex, it doesn’t make people whores or anything. It’s just a biolol- a bilo- a natural thing.”

“Biological imperative,” Mark said triumphantly.

“Yeah, that. And everyone has their place on the spectrum. It’s all fine. You don’t want sex as much as other people, and there are those who want it even less, and that’s cool. And there’s people who want it a lot, and that’s cool too. Everyone should just be safe and smart about it, and then, who cares?”

“What about… what about the other spectrum?”

“Hm?”

“Sexuality, as in, like, what gender attraction people feel.”

“That’s all fine too.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s all cool, but what about you?”

“What- oh, you mean, what am I attracted to?”

“Yeah.” Jack chewed on the inside of his lip for a minute, hesitant, then finally answered.

“I mean, I’ve never right out said exactly what my sexuality is, but I suppose I’d be bi. I don’t see why I need to come out as bi or anything, cause hetero people don’t come out, everyone needs to just only think about it if it concerns them, you know? Like, my subscribers don’t have a reason they need to know, but I’m not all that subtle about it. I find some guys attractive. And I find some girls attractive. I don’t see why I need to announce that,” he said carefully, aware that this was a dangerous conversation to have while drunk.

“That… that makes a lot of sense. I’d never thought of it that way- if we’re looking for equality and all that shit, then why do the homosexual people have to have a ‘coming out’? People don’t have to be like, ‘Mom, Dad, I’m straight’, so why do they have to say otherwise? That’s really cool,” Mark mused.

“What about you?”

“Well… I can appreciate aesthetic of any gender. I don’t know about having sex with any gender, but I can say I’ve admired both men and women’s bodies. I’ve never really worried about defining it. If I suddenly start dating a guy, then I’ll worry about it. But there’s no reason to try to label how I feel right now,” he mused. “I’d always thought it was normal to appreciate attractive people, no matter their gender.”

“Hey, that’s cool, man. No need for labels or whatever- that’s all so last generation,” Jack laughed, waving a hand. “We all just wanna be happy, whatever it takes.”

“Unless it takes heroin.”

Jack cackled. “Unless it takes heroin!”

They talked for a little while longer, until Mark started snoring. Jack went to the loo, stripped to his boxers, and crawled under the quilts. He fell asleep almost immediately.

He woke the next morning to bright sun and heat- he’d been cold when he’d gone to sleep, but now, he had about three quilts too many. He kicked them off, sighing, and rolled over.

He smiled at the sight of Mark sleeping on the couch- on his back one leg hanging off the side, one arm over his head, mouth hanging open and his glasses askew. Jack sat up and stretched, then flinched.

Where was his hat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a relatively short chapter, but when I write fics, I usually have sort of built-in stopping points, and this is one of them. I'll update soon after this. You know what makes me want to update really soon? Comments and kudos- nothing lights a fire under me like when I know people are actually interested in this! (I'm a pushover and a wet towel when it comes to peer pressure, so comment away and abuse your power over me, you beauties.)


	4. Blue Shells Sink Friendships

He smiled at the sight of Mark sleeping on the couch- on his back one leg hanging off the side, one arm over his head, mouth hanging open and his glasses askew. Jack sat up and stretched, then flinched.

Where was his hat?

He dove for his bag, rummaging through until he found a beanie, and pulled that on, tucking his ears under it, hoping they were down smoothly. He found some pajama pants from his bag as well and got those on, and then Mark started waking up.

“Th’fuck,” Mark mumbled, stretching and opening his eyes. He groaned as he sat up. “I fucking hate it when I fall asleep on the couch. I’m too old for this,” he grumbled, arching his back and rolling his shoulders.

“You’re not that old,” Jack snorted.

“I feel ancient.”

“I thought asians were supposed to age well,” Jack said, standing and wandering into the kitchen. “How do I operate this coffee machine?”

“Oh c’mon, it doesn’t take an engineer,” Mark huffed. “Coffee and filters are in the cupboard above. You take your good old time figuring that out. I’m gonna grab a shower- I hate it when I sleep in my clothes.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but he managed to get the coffee maker to make noise and eventually spew coffee into the pot. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, deciding to shower after coffee. He ruffled his ears, but put his beanie back on fairly quickly. His normal hat had fallen off in his sleep, so he’d inadvertently slept with them free, which was nice- but risky as all hell. Not something he was going to do again.

When he came back out, he sleepily watched the coffee machine work, and went through all his social networks, commenting on things on twitter and tumblr, and finally taking a video for instagram. He pointed his phone at the coffee pot.

“See this? This machine is designed for engineers only. Smart folk. And guess who got it running?” He turned the camera back at himself, and punched a fist into the air. “ _This_ guy! Like a _BOSS_!” He ended the video and posted it. Immediately, comments flooded in- some folks commenting on his sleep-raspy voice, repeating his classic phrase over and over again, asking how he liked his coffee (two spoonfuls of cream, no sugar), and of course, septiplier comments.

He found the mugs and retrieved two, filling his and leaving Mark’s beside the coffee pot- he wasn’t sure how he took it, and decided to just let him do it. He turned just in time to see Mark coming down the stairs.

“Shower’s free,” Mark said unnecessarily. Jack grinned.

“No shit, sherlock,” Jack snorted. He blew over the top of his coffee. “I think I’m actually gonna shower while this gets to a not-death temperature.”

“Go for it,” Mark said, gesturing. So Jack set his mug down, grabbed his bathroom bag and some clean clothes, and went upstairs to the shower.

He washed quickly, but enjoyed lathering his ears- he loved washing the fur, and he was a little particular about the treatment of them. He had a specific shampoo and conditioner he always used on them. If he had to put a hat on quickly after a shower, he usually blowdried them, but he hadn’t brought a blowdryer, as most hotel rooms were usually equipped with them. When he got out of the shower, he noticed a cord plugged into the wall, and followed it down to a large drawer. Pulling it out, he discovered a blowdryer, and grinned. Mark was such a princess.

When he went downstairs, smelling of cucumber and his newsboy cap donned, he took a deep breath. The scent of cinnamon and maple was thick in the air.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Jack teased, retrieving his mug to find his coffee at a perfect temperature.

“I told you, I always cook french toast when I have people over. Don’t expect it on the con days, though- I usually just make it the first night,” he added.

“You can only eat french toast so much, I suppose,” Jack agreed. “What can I do to help?”

“I got this. Pretty easy to make,” Mark shrugged. So Jack took a seat at the counter. “I heard you found my blowdryer.”

“I don’t know why I was surprised to see you have one, you pampered princess,” Jack snorted.

“Oh, c’mon, how did you think I maintained such a masterful fauxhawk for so long?”

“But you don’t do the fauxhawk anymore.”

“I still like blowdrying my hair,” he said with a shrug, flipping a few slices of perfectly browned french toast onto a plate. “Leaving the house or doing anything with my hair wet feels like I’m not ready for the day yet. Like I forgot to put on socks or something.”

“You’re weird.”

“You blowdry your hair too, don’t judge me,” Mark scoffed.

They began debating what games they would collab that day. They talked about perhaps playing The Forest again, but thought that had run it’s course. Both of them liked the idea of having David and Ryan over to play Mario Kart- Mark hadn’t set up to record playing something on the TV for a while, but they knew they could get it together pretty quick. They discussed other games, mourning the fact that GTA was single player, wondering if they could somehow co-op I Am Bread, but finally decided on going way back and playing Portal 2 followed by the new Mortal Kombat game.

The french toast was delicious- Jack found some frozen raspberries in the freezer and showed an unexpected culinary skill in sauteeing them back to life with the maple syrup, then pouring it over the french toast. Mark instagrammed himself with a mouthful of it, making some comment about Jack’s irish black magic doing wonders in the kitchen, and then they cleaned up together after. Jack washed the pans while Mark got his recording studio set up for the collab, and then they started playing.

It was fantastic fun. Jack hadn’t done a live collab with anyone in a long while, so he had a grand time. They started out serious- both of them had played both Portal games to completion, of course, but neither had done much with the multiplayer mode. So they took it carefully and thoughtfully at first, but after a while, it quickly dissolved into sabotage and murder. When Atlas (Mark), was slowly pushing P-Body (Jack) to the edge of an acid pit with a laser, and Jack was physically whacking Mark with his Xbox controller, they decided to call it quits. They turned to Mortal Kombat to take out their rage on each other.

It was delightfully gory, as Mortal Kombat tended to be, and Jack started out thrashing Mark. Jack had played it much more than he had, but Mark hadn’t gone to engineering school for nothing- he learned quickly, and soon it became a more even match, and Mark was able to win a handful, and then more.

At about 3, both of them hungry and a little raspy from hollering, they stopped to make a late lunch- they threw together some excellent tuna melts, and Mark revealed an obscenely well-stocked chip cupboard. Mark called Ryan and Daniel, asking them to come play Mario Kart, and they happily agreed.

“What is with all these C-gone-K games?”

“What?”

“Mortal _Kombat_. With a _K_. Mario _Kart_. With a _K_ ,” Jack explained. “Is the letter K the new cool kid on the block or what? The letter C is uncool? Should I spell my name J-A-K-K now, to be cool?”

“Yes, absolutely. Henceforth you shall be known as Jakk,” Mark said solemnly, pronouncing the k’s hard.

“Awesome. Change one letter, and your badass level goes through the fucking roof,” Jack- now Jakk- said happily. He made the announcement on twitter, and then helped Mark set up the recording equipment to record on the TV.

Ryan and Daniel arrived with iced coffee for everyone, and they set to playing, all four of them squished cozy-like on the couch. Jack was terrible at it- he had never been all that great at driving games- and quickly became the laughingstock of the event, screaming at the TV when he went off the edge, turning his controller like it was a steering wheel (“Jack, this isn’t the Wii-” “ _I fookin’ know! Shuttup, you fookin_ -”) and coming in dead last every time, except once when Daniel got ripped a new one with blue shells and red shells right at the end.

They ordered chinese and ate with chopsticks on the couch, discussing the happenings at the con the next morning. By the time Ryan and Daniel left, promising to bring danishes and croissants for everyone from the bakery beside their apartment, it was almost ten. Neither Mark nor Jack went to bed before midnight, usually, but they acknowledged the upcoming events and decided to turn in early.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, and I feel bad about it. It's cute and friendly but I feel like it's filler-ish. Not because the quality is bad- if this was a strictly fluff fic, I'd be pleased with this- but it's lacking action. Therefore, rather than stick to the Sunday update schedule I've somehow found myself in, I'll update again Wednesday! So look for me then! I swear there's gonna be some real fantastic stuff happening then. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
> 
> Also, I've gotten several requests to describe the ears. Patience, you puppies! Your description will come when it's smooth-flowing with the context. I don't want to break the interaction and flow of it to stop and describe the ears. This is the way I do things, and I apologize if there are characteristics of my writing you don't exactly agree with, but I want to stay loyal to my style. Once upon a time, years ago, I was writing choppy fics with great plots but awful writing style. I've spent a lot of time carefully reading truly good writing and monitoring my own style to give myself good flow. Now that I'm finally making a name for myself, I want to keep progressing, not regressing to flow breaks and detail that isn't necessary to the plot quite yet.
> 
> I hope you understand my explanation, and I don't sound snooty or anything. Just... I'll get there! Trust in me, folks! Y'all will appreciate it better when it comes. I'm hoping I'll catch a few people off guard. And thank you all for the comments and kudos's, it really brings a smile to my face to hear that people are looking at my stuff!


	5. Weird

They ordered chinese and ate with chopsticks on the couch, discussing the happenings at the con the next morning. By the time Ryan and Daniel left, promising to bring danishes and croissants for everyone from the bakery beside their apartment, it was almost ten. Neither Mark nor Jack went to bed before midnight, usually, but they acknowledged the upcoming events and decided to turn in early.

“Are we driving in the morning, or walking?” Jack asked through a mouthful of toothpaste foam.

“Walking. It’s about a twenty minute walk, but trying to get a car near the place and find a parking spot would take twice that,” Mark said, setting the coffee pot for morning. “What time are you getting up?”

“Six, probably. Ugh, that’s early, but I don’t wanna risk being late. I’ll sleep when the con’s over,” he said dryly.

“True that,” Mark agreed. “I’ll get in the shower before you. I always get this weird wardrobe distress on con days- suddenly I hate all my clothes and I can’t pick what to wear.”

“Dude, ditto,” Jack snorted, wiping his face and putting his toothbrush away. He already had his beanie on. “You wanna wake me up when you’re out of the shower, then? Getting woke up with an alarm always makes me pissy.”

“Sure. I’ll see you then, then. Goodnight,” Mark said, giving an odd little half-wave before going upstairs. Jack caught himself grinning at the stairs, and went to use the bathroom, then changed into pajama pants and his beanie, and went to bed.

He woke to the ground moving, and jolted up with a sick fear and scramble of limbs and quilts.

Mark snorted. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. You scared me, you came up like a- like a Jack-in-the-box.” He snorted again at his own joke. Jack rubbed his eyes sleepily, relaxing back down.

“Har-de-har. You’re so funny,” he mumbled. “Jaysus, I thought it was an earthquake.”

“I kicked the air mattress,” Mark explained. “You thought it was gonna be like 2012 or something?”

“We’re in California! This place is notorious for earthquakes,” Jack grumbled, staggering upright.

“We don’t get as many as people think,” Mark laughed. “Anyways. Coffee’s brewed, shower’s open, I’m getting you up, per request.” Jack finally squinted at him properly, and took in his dark hair, spiky and wet from his shower, bared chest, emerald boxers visible above his low-slung pants, and lack of glasses.

“Thanks. And thanks for getting me up, you’re a sight better than a stupid alarm clock,” Jack said with a grin.

“Fuck yeah I am. _Dear diary, today Jack said I was better looking than an alarm clock. It was soooooooo sweet_ ,” Mark joked.

“Just cause you don’t think my compliments are suave doesn’t mean the girls don’t love me.” He dug out his clothes and shower things, and went up to the bathroom to shower.

He was carding conditioner through his ears when there was a knock on the door. He grabbed his ears and pulled them flat against his head, eyes wide.

“Jack? Can I come in? I think I left my glasses in there.”

“Uh, sure,” he called, still holding his ears, frozen. The door opened, and he heard Mark enter the room.

“Sorry. I mean, I know I can’t see anything, it’s all frosted marbled glass,” Mark said.

“Er- yeah, no, I know.”

“Got them, I’m out,” Mark said, and he heard the door close again. He stood there under the water, clutching his ears down, unable to move, for a few more seconds.

Close. Too close.

When he went downstairs, dressed and blowdryed and with his beanie on, Mark was putting bottles of water, apples, and crackers in a drawstring bag.

“Hey. Anything you wanna throw in here?” he asked. “Sorry if coming in was awkward, I just forgot my glasses.”

“Nah, it’s fine- I’ve got a boatload of brothers and sisters, remember? We were always in and out of the bathroom when people were in the shower, so I don’t really care,” Jack said with a shrug. “Not weird. And sure, I’ll put a few things in there.” He put in his deodorant (cons were always hot and a little overwhelming, which made him sweat, and he’d rather have the embarrassment of reapplying than have the much greater embarrassment of BO,) and his phone charger, just in case, several sharpies, and a few other things.

“Nice beanie, you copying my style?” Jack joked, grinning at Mark’s hat.

“Well, if an irish punk like you can rock a beanie, I must be able to,” he laughed. “I don’t do it as well as you do, though.”

“It’s cause you’ve got to push it back more. Till it’s nearly falling off your head, and it’s all slumpy and casual. Not for keeping your head warm, but for looking cool,” Jack advised. “Here, can I…?” Mark nodded, turning, and Jack tugged his beanie back, fluffing his cowlick (maybe a little more than necessary- his hair was fine and generous, like the thick down of bird feathers, unlike Jack’s own coarse and graying hair) until it looked right. “There.”

Mark took out his phone and examined his hair in the front-facing camera. “Damn. So that’s how you do it. Feels like it’s gonna fall off, though.”

“It won’t. You’ll get accustomed to it.”

Mark grinned. “You know what, though? What if we swapped, the shippers would-,” he reached up and took his off, and took Jack’s off to trade-

Jack took a step back, too late, as Mark’s fingers already had the fabric gripped between them-

-Mark fell into stunned silence. Jack, too, was wordless.

Exposed.

Ears.

Jesus fuck. His ears. Mark saw, and there was nothing Jack could do.

“What.” That was the first word Mark managed, and no more after that.

Jack’s eyes were wide, and his face felt cold and plastic. He could hear a loud ringing in his head.

_What do I do?_

He stepped forward and took his hat back, pulling it on, and stepping into his shoes. His own words sounded far away and tinny.

“Mark, we have to go.”

“You… you have…”

“Mark, we said we were meeting Daniel and Ryan, the con is starting soon- we have to go.”

“I… “ Mark was shaking his head slowly, like a frightened dog. “Holy shit. Holy _shit_. The fuck have you got on your- are those _ears_? You’ve- you’ve got fucking- what the _fuck_!”

“Yeah, I’ve got… yeah. C’mon, we have to go.”

“Why the _fuck_ do you have… those?” He seemed unable to say it.

“Hell if I know. We can talk about it on the way, and tonight, but we’ve got to go,” Jack said flatly. “Put your shoes on.” He obeyed mindlessly, and watched with a furrowed brow as Jack got his keys for him, slung the bag on, and led him out of the apartment, locking it behind them.

“I don’t understand,” Mark managed, taking a few jogging steps to catch up with Jack’s long, purposeful stride.

“Yeah, neither do I. I don’t know why I have them, or where they came from, or anything. I just have them. Pain in the ass,” he sighed. The fear and dread and hopelessness of the reveal was slowly being replaced with something… else. Something more akin to ease.

Relief.

It was out. The secret was out. No more hiding- it was done. Mark knew. And whatever else happened, it was out of his hands. The burden was off his shoulders- his role was over, there was nothing left but to take whatever came. He knew that what happened next had potential to be very bad, but the fact that it was out of his control was like a balm to his rattled nerves.

“But… I just don’t get it. _Why the fuck do you have rabbit ears_?”

“Dunno. Isn’t it fucking stupid? I’m like some- some fucking- _cartoon_ character. This is the kind of shit that happens in crap drama TV-meets-sci-fi, or in a kid’s animated show bullshit. I have fucking rabbit ears.”

“Are you, like… half-rabbit or something?”

“God, no. I’ve just got these ears. I don’t- I don’t, like, jump high, or crave carrots, or have a strong sense of smell or anything.”

“This doesn’t make sense. You’ve got normal ears.” Jack blushed.

“Actually… they’re prosthetics. I don’t actually hear through them. I used to have longer hair to hide that I didn’t have ears, and when my parents figured I’d stopped growing enough, I got surgery and got these. When I do my videos and I’m wearing headphones, I’ve just got those on for show- I have earbuds that go up to my real ears,” he explained.

Mark nodded, chewing his lip as they went out onto the street. “Okay. Okay, that…. biologically, that makes way more sense. And that makes sense why you haven’t like… removed them. Where did they come from?”

“My Mum didn’t fuck a rabbit or anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jack said flatly. “My sister actually came in from playing in the woods with me one day- she found me and was playing with me, we were friends- we were really young, like, she was 3 or something, and I guess I followed her home. Mum and Dad tried to find where I came from, but when it became clear that I wasn’t going to find a family in the woods again, they adopted me, named me Sean. But Ma always called me Jack as a nickname, and so did my brothers and sisters.”

“Jacksepticeye,” Mark mused. “Jack- as in _jackrabbit_?”

“Yep. I just was vague when I explained it on my channel- I figured nobody would guess it’s because I have fucking _jackrabbit ears_. Because that’s absolutely ridiculous.”

Mark started to giggle. “Oh my god. It is so ridiculous.”

His laughter was contagious, and Jack started to snicker- they were both half-hysterical from the shock of the reveal. “It’s stupid as all hell.”

“It is. It is,” Mark agreed, shaking his head, now roaring with laughter. “There’s absolutely nothing logical or sane or normal about this. It’s just- it’s just pointlessly _weird_.”

Mark turned, finally noticing that Jack had stopped walking.

 _Weird_.

Weird.

 **Weird**.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I promised, here's your unusual freakish unnatural Wednesday update! However, we might slow down on updates- I just unexpectedly got a job and I'm trying to adjust to working an 8-5 for the first time in years, and I'm also climbing a mountain this weekend. This is a big deal. It's a big mountain! Full day climb and camping, the whole deal. I'm excited about it!
> 
> My point is, if there isn't an update this sunday, I apologize but it's probably because my legs are nothing but noodles and I'm trying to stay awake during the day, let alone write more. Sorry sorry sorry! ((please don't hate me ilu))


	6. The One Where There's Touching In A Public Bathroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my GOODNESS has it really been this long since I've updated this??? I am SO SORRY.  
> -yes I survived the mountain hike (it was a grand time and I want to do it again!!! Though next time I'd like to stay somewhere with a shower and running water.)  
> -yes I'm surviving my new job (not all that delighted about being a secretary when I've got an engineering degree but that's the job market for you. at least I'm making money.)  
> -YES I GOT A KITTEN (Her name is Domino and I've put photos of her on my tumblr and she's SO. CUTE. and has the loveliest personality, playful and funny and cuddly, I'm so blessed to have her around.)  
> -yes I had writer's block (but I wrote a short cute septiplier fic based on a funny prompt I came across a month ago, and got through the block I think/hope. The short will probably get posted on AO3 here soon.)  
> -YES NEW CHAPTER. GET READING.

His laughter was contagious, and Jack started to snicker- they were both half-hysterical from the shock of the reveal. “It’s stupid as all hell.”

“It is. It is,” Mark agreed, shaking his head, now roaring with laughter. “There’s absolutely nothing logical or sane or normal about this. It’s just- it’s just pointlessly weird.”

Mark turned, finally noticing that Jack had stopped walking.

Weird.

 _Weird_.

 **Weird**.

“Hey. Hey, Jack, it’s okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I wasn’t laughing at you, just the situation. I’m not- You’re still awesome, you’re still- boss,” Mark stammered hurriedly, returning to Jack’s side and putting the gentle weight of his hands on Jack’s shoulders.

Jack didn’t trust himself to speak, just shook his head. He knew if he tried to force up words, the lump in his throat would come up with it. He blinked lightly, quickly, trying to keep the tears within his lids.

 _Weird_.

“Look at me. _Sean_ ,” Mark said firmly, startling Jack into eye contact with the use of his proper name. “Look. I don’t see you any differently. I meant weird in the best way. This is just something new I’ve learned about you, but _it doesn’t affect how I see you_. Like, if I said, I have a birthmark on my hip, that wouldn’t change how you thought of me, right? This is the same thing. It’s just something on your body. I still know _who_ you are.”

“Even if you don’t know _what_ I am,” Jack laughed, snuffling a little. He pulled his sleeve down and wiped at the rims of his eyes. “Sorry. I’m being awfully fragile.”

“You’re being rational,” Mark snorted. “This is a big deal for you. You’ve hid this for your whole life, you’re allowed to be a little busted up over this.” One of Mark’s hands had somehow migrated up Jack’s shoulder to his neck, to his jaw, and was stroking the side of his face in a soothing gesture.

He leaned into the hand, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. “Thank you.”

“For what? Being a decent human being and accepting things that are out of neither of our control?” Mark laughed. He dropped his hands and stepped back. “C’mon, let’s go meet the others.”

“You won’t tell them?”

“Wow, I’ll pretend you didn’t ask me that. You think I’m so untrustworthy?” Mark huffed.

“Sorry. Had to ask.”

“I know.”

They proceeded to the con, and Jack hesitated when it came into sight. “I can see you staring at my head. Nothing’s… visible is it?”

“Nope, I’m just trying to see them. It would be so easy to just pretend I never saw them and forget it happened, you know? Everything just seems so normal. It’s weird to think you’ve got-,”

“Shut up,” Jack hushed him, glancing around. “Are my eyes red or anything?”

Mark looked him up and down. “Nope. You’re good. And me?” he asked, sticking out his lips in a duck face and ran a hand through his hair.

“You shouldn’t be allowed out in public,” Jack snorted, and they went in.

Mark consulted his phone, and they met Daniel and Ryan at a tiny cafe table upstairs. To Jack’s relief, it went as normal- as if Mark had never seen them at all. He did see him several times glance at the top of his head, but never for longer than an instant.

Everything went as normal.

Except it wasn’t, and Jack knew it. And now, so did Mark.

In the evening, he dismissed himself from a table to go to the bathroom, and went upstairs to find a single bathroom. He was more conscious than ever of his ears being crushed under his beanie, and was dying to straighten them, if just for a minute.

He hadn’t taken his hat off for ten seconds before there was a tap on the door, making him jump.

“Jack,” came the hushed whisper. It was Mark. “Lemme in.”

“The fuck? Why?” Jack hissed back.

“I wanna see your ears. Unlock the door.”

Jack unlocked it, not quite knowing why, and Mark quickly came in and closed the door again. His eyes went straight above his head.

“I knew you didn’t really have to piss, you were just letting your head and ears breathe,” Mark snickered. “I just wanted to see them again. Reassure myself that this morning wasn’t just a vivid fever-dream. Can I touch them?”

“No,” Jack said immediately, a knee-jerk reaction. “I mean- yeah, sure. Knock yourself out,” he said awkwardly, ducking his head a little.

Mark apparently didn’t think he could reach the full extent of them- he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the sink, giving himself several extra inches, so his chin was higher than Jack’s forehead. When he reached for Jack’s ears, there was a cautious, respectful hesitation in his motion.

“They’re soft,” Mark said with surprise.

“Duh. You ever touch regular rabbit ears before? This isn’t all that different,” Jack scoffed. “And… I condition them well. They can get dry and itchy from being under a hat all day,” he admitted.

“They match your hair. Sort of. Maybe they’re a bit lighter. So does that mean your ears have hair, or your head has fur?” Mark mused.

“My head has _hair_ , and my ears have _fur_!”

“So where exactly does the transition from hair to fur happen?” Mark was ruffling through his hair at the base of his ears, examining how they connected to his head.

“Hell if I know.”

“You’ve had ears all your life and you’ve never asked these questions. C’mon, Jack,” Mark huffed. “How mobile are they?”

To show rather than tell, Jack twisted them back and lay them flat on his head, then straightened them up and crooked one to the side, and then bent one in half. “Pretty damn mobile.”

“I’ll say!” Mark was just petting the fur again. His ears were almost tortoiseshell colored- brown just a shade lighter than his hair, and patched with gray and white. “Will you just wear them out around my apartment now, since I already know about them?”

“Probably. Why wouldn’t I?”

Mark just grinned, still petting Jack’s ears, carding his fingers through the fur, almost as though hypnotized. Jack waited a minute, then spoke. “Mark!”

“What?” he asked, startled.

“We’re at a con! In a bathroom! Can’t just stay here all day.”

Mark shook his head, withdrawing his hand. “Right, right. It’s just- fur therapy. I love furry things.”

“Yeah, well, not too much, I hope. Because if you’re going to use me to satisfy your fur fetish, I _will_ kill you,” Jack joked dryly.

“Wow, hey, furries are people too,” Mark giggled.

“ _I’m not a furry_!!”

“I know, I know, I’m just teasing. I’m just still a little stunned this is all real. It’s unbelievable. Amazing.” He slid down off the counter, landing so close to Jack that he felt compelled to take a step back- but didn’t. He just looked at the mirror on the back of the door and pulled his hat back on, tucking his ears carefully in.

“That look okay?” he asked, turning this and that way in the mirror, eyeing the hat critically.

“Looks great.” There was an odd note to Mark’s voice, and Jack glanced at him curiously. He met Jack’s eyes boldly for a few long seconds, and then Jack was reaching for the door.

“Wait! We can’t both just burst out of here. Two men popping out of a single bathroom stall in the middle of a con. The shippers will positively combust,” Jack realized, snatching his hand back from the knob.

“I’ll go out first, you wait a few minutes, then you come out. If anyone asks, just tell them we were having a quicky and laugh and wink. They’ll think you’re just being coy,” Mark advised. Jack snorted, but nodded. Mark opened the door and slipped out quickly, and Jack spent the time answering a few tweets, then went out without a hitch.

When he rejoined the others, Mark simply met him with a grin, and they continued as usual. A few people were going out to dinner at the end of the day, but Mark and Jack tiredly waved them off. They’d greeted, signed, and taken photos for nearly thirteen hours, and they had the panel the next day, along with more signing.

Back in the apartment, Mark and Jack toed off their shoes, quiet with fatigue, and then Mark was staring at Jack expectantly.

“What?” Jack asked nervously.

“You gonna take off your hat or what?”

“Jaysus, let me get in the door first,” Jack snorted. “Are your blinds closed?”

Mark was gone to check, and returned a few seconds later. “Yeah. Now, do the thing,” he said, gesturing at Jack’s head. Jack rolled his eyes, but pulled his beanie off, obediently flexing his ears.

“Ta da? I don’t get why you’re so wrapped up in this,” Jack said, a bit hoarse. There was a sudden trend in requests for him to do their voicemail recording, and people expected him to be loud all the time. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and Mark followed.

“You have _rabbit ears_. This is not a small deal,” Mark pointed out.

“I also have fingernails and a bellybutton and eyebrows and the big dipper in moles on my back,” Jack pointed out. “It’s not all that exciting.”

“How do you know it’s not the little dipper?” Mark said, completely missing the point.

“The handle of the dipper part curves down, toward the bottom of the- look, that’s not what I’m saying!” he interrupted himself, shaking his head. “I’m saying, it’s just a part of me.”

“You were absolutely _riveted_ when you saw me twist my feet around backwards,” Mark said. “That’s just a part of me, but you freaked out. This is like that.”

Jack considered that, slugging down half his glass of water, and filling it up again. Mark reached around him to get a drink as well.

“You know what I want?” Jack mused.

“Wouldn’t dare guess,” Mark replied with a grin. Jack rolled his eyes, but continued.

“I want to drink myself into a completely blind stupor so I can not care that my best friend just found out I’ve got goddamn bunny ears.”

Mark was quiet for a moment, sipping at his water slowly, before replying. “Firstly- I’m honored to be your best friend. I don’t think you’ve ever said that for certain before- that I’m your best friend- but I was really hoping you considered me to be a good friend, at least. And I’ve got to say, in the last year, you’ve probably taken that position in my life too. As my best friend,” he added to clarify. Jack blinked and ducked his head to drink his water, a little awkward, a little embarrassed. A little delighted.

“Secondly,” Mark continued, “drinking to forget your problems is totally unhealthy, mentally and physically, Irish or not. Also, we’ve got con stuff first thing in the morning, and trust me- you do _not_ want to be hung over at a con.” This was spoken with dry humor, probably from experience. “So I’m perfectly happy to share my booze with you, but if your plan is to ‘drink to forget’, then I’m not going to enable that. Third- I honestly don’t care that you’ve got rabbit ears. It’s not…. This isn’t, like, new. You’re…. the same person you’ve always been. I just know about this now. You haven’t changed, so my view of you isn’t going to. Sure, I know something different about you now, but you’re still… you.” He looked frustrated about his explanation, and shook his head. “I’m not saying this right, but I hope you understand what I mean. I think it’s cool, but I’m not going to treat you different than I did before. Because you’re not different than you were before.”

Jack’s face twisted into a smile. “No, I get it. I know what you mean- and _thank you_ , thank you so much for being so cool about all this. Honestly, this is a little terrifying and I just… I really needed to hear that.”

Mark grinned back and gently punched him in the shoulder. “Still bras, right?”

“Isn’t it ‘bros’?”

“Nah, bras. Because we’re two of us and we give support.”

Jack covered his face with his hand, shaking his head. “That’s an awful pun,” he said, but he was laughing. “I can’t believe I hang out with you.”

“Oh c’mon, it was funny.”

“It was _not_ funny!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to return to updating on Sundays, if that's okay? Readers, you okay with that? How about you, laptop? Life, can that work please?


	7. The Panel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting distracted with other fics but I swear I'm not giving up on you guys, I'm gonna power through this and finish this fic! Eventually....

    “Isn’t it ‘bros’?”

    “Nah, bras. Because we’re two of us and we give support.”

    Jack covered his face with his hand, shaking his head. “That’s an awful pun,” he said, but he was laughing. “I can’t believe I hang out with you.”

    “Oh c’mon, it was funny.”

    “It was not funny!”

    They went to bed rather soon after that, both of them exhausted from the con. Jack expected to find sleep untenable, on account of the stress of the discovery, but he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, it was morning and Mark was blowing coffee steam at him.

    “Coffee,” Mark said, putting a mug in Jack’s hand. “Rise and whine.”

    Jack didn’t even bother with words. It was too early for words. It was too early for standing up too, and for people, and for light, but he knew he had to deal with all of that eventually, so he sipped his coffee and sat up. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Mark gave his right ear an affectionate ruffle on his way out of the room, momentarily forgetting all that had happened. It was fine- Mark knew, he didn’t have to wear a hat around Mark’s apartment, he knew and it was fine.

    Shower. Dressing. Breakfast of an apple, a banana, and peanut butter on the way out the door. Putting a hat on again. Walking quickly through the cool, misty morning. Making their slow way to their table, greeting and chatting with fans all the way. Sending selfies together to instagram and tumblr. More greeting, more chatting. Mark had to nearly drag Jack to lunch- he just wanted to talk to everyone, give them all the time they deserved, treat them like individual human beings and not just fans to be rushed along a line. Mark agreed that it was tough- there were so many people out there who needed them, and the world was unfair in that they couldn’t personally help all of them. But Mark had enough experience that he understood the unfairness and knew he could only do so much. Jack clung to the idea that he could do it all- he logically knew he couldn’t, but he was going to do his damndest to try.

Both of them acquired capes just before lunch- a bright-eyed girl with multicolored dreadlocks and half a dozen facial piercings apparently worked at a print shop, and had made them. They were both light silk, liquid-like and glossy, with comfortable shoulder fixings and personalized prints. Mark’s was black with a giant pink Warfstache, and the shoulder fittings were battered bronze Tiny Box Tim’s. Jack’s was a dark forest green, with a violently lime-colored septiceye on the back, printed in a comic-book-like minimalist style, and his shoulder fittings were little silver Septiceye Sam’s.

“These are _amazing_!” Jack crowed, swinging it around in a satisfying sweep to hook over his shoulders. “It’s even the perfect length!”

“Your heights are on your wiki pages,” she’d laughed, and accepted hugs from both of them, and they took several photos with her, wearing the capes.

“We’ll wear them for the panel, unveil them then,” Mark said, taking his off and folding it carefully. Jack did the same, reverentially smoothing over the cool fabric and tucking it in his bag.

They got burgers and onion rings for lunch, and sent Wade several snapchats with Mark’s mouth wide open, baring a revolting mouthful of half-chewed burger and condiments. _Wishing you well_ , they captioned. The reply was from Molly, and sent them into delighted giggles. _Aaaand we’re back to camping out on the bathroom floor_ , it said. Neither of them wanted to eat the last onion ring- they exchanged aggressively polite offers and then somehow ended up arm wrestling for it. Back to the con, it took them nearly half an hour to get from one end of the room to the other, and then were finally shuffled backstage to get ready for the panel.

It was just as Jack remembered it. Happy and friendly and together in a way he only experienced at panels. There was so much cameraderie in the room, with all these people he’d never set eyes on- but they watched him, day after day, and for some reason it helped them. He helped them. It was surreal. His face already hurt from smiling but he couldn’t stop- he was grinning so hard that his eyes were squinted up, which was good, because he felt borderline teary. These people had been brought together, out of the dark and the deep, to a community where there was nothing but love and support and light, light, light. It gave him hope. It made him want to  be better, to truly deserve these people’s love. He could never pay them back- he could never deserve the sheer quantity of love that these people had to give.

He put on his cape, and Mark put on his cape, and they strode out in front of the crowd, chest pushed out in a parade of peacocking and the applause was laughter.

There was so much laughter.

At the end- he didn’t want it to end. There were people who still had questions, who still hadn’t gotten to speak to him. He didn’t want everyone to have to feel that plummeting sense of melancholy of it being over, to go back home and leave from this place of laughter and love. He didn’t want anyone to leave unsatisfied. He could sense Mark’s frustration- Mark kept starting to outro, but Jack kept interrupting him for one last question, just one more question! And Mark, so smoothly, made it comedic, he jumped on Jack and wrapped a whole arm over his mouth, howling like a madman. It got a bit out of hand, as things tended to when Jack was with Mark. (He thought that was just how Mark always was- a bit over the top- but a little part of him wished that Mark was just extra enthusiastic when around him.)

Their chairs tipped over and they fell with a crash and Jack shouting fake-angrily, hidden behind the table, and there was more laughter and a few catcalls until they managed to detangle themselves and the chairs and get back on their feet. Mark gave a bow; Jack turned red and put his hands over his face.

They did their outro properly, and again, the crowd shouted with them. Jack felt warm and tired but humming with adrenaline, and as though he was personally connected to everyone in the room. A web of good vibes. He felt high.

And then it was over, and the relief and sadness diluted each other.

“I’m sad it’s over, you know? But I’m also like, whew, another panel under my belt. And I’m glad that the rest of the time I’m here, I can just do my own thing. But still, I wish I could do this like- not every day. Maybe every week. Or every other week,” Jack was saying as he and Mark sat backstage, drinking water.

“I don’t know if I could do it every week. You must have a throat of steel,” he remarked, clicking the pectin drop in his mouth against his teeth for verification.

“I wish I had some trick or tip to share with you, but I’m just as mystified by it,” Jack said with a grin.

“You’re just full of mysteries.”

Jack grinned and swigged his water to hide his face. “What are we doing now, anyways?” he asked.

“Well, the con is over for us, so you can drink till you can’t even stand in the morning, if you want,” Mark said wryly. “I didn’t have anything really planned tonight- all the con people are still gonna be here, so I figured going out wouldn’t be a great idea. However, I do have plans for us for tomorrow night."

"Oh, what plans?"

"Just plans. For tomorrow," he said pointedly.

"Fine, don't tell me," Jack laughed. "Tonight, maybe we can just watch a movie and drink. Relax a little. I could do with a night in. Not even playing video games- just sitting on my ass doing sweet F-A."

"I could go for that," Mark agreed.

They took a detour on the walk back to a grocery store to buy popcorn and drinks. They pondered over the redbox for a while, but decided to just dredge up something satisfying on netflix. Back at Mark’s apartment, they just dropped their things in the entryway and immediately got into pajamas, and Jack took his hat off.

They ended up putting on a Transformer’s movie- Jack couldn’t even recall which one- not so much because they liked it, but because they didn’t feel motivated to search beyond the first few that popped up. Mark made them both long island iced teas (insisting that he mix the drinks because he did bartending with Bob once at a sushi restaurant, and insisting on that particular drink because Jack was in America- maybe not on long island, but close enough, right?) and they crunched on popcorn, sprawling out on the couch.

Jack ended up sitting with his back against one side of the couch, and Mark mirrored him on the other side, and their legs sort of crossed in the middle. Jack aimlessly threw a piece of popcorn at Mark, and it became a game of trying to catch popcorn in their mouths.

“You suck at this,” Jack said. “I’m gonna end up eating half the popcorn, and your vacuum is gonna eat the rest.”

Mark threw a kernel at him overhand, hard, and it bounced off Jack’s outraged forehead.

“Hey, you little-!” Jack kicked at his feet, giggling. Mark kicked back, and it turned into a proper footfight, both of them laughing like children. Until the inevitable happened, and Mark’s foot went a little too far and a little too hard and connected with Jack’s crotch.

“Oh shit! You okay?” Mark asked around his roaring laughter. Jack groaned, curled up in foetal position, waiting for the nausea and ache to pass. He managed a mostly affirmative groan, and Mark ruffled his ears in response. “You’re fine. I’m going to make more drinks,” Mark snorted, getting up. When he returned with them, Jack took a few large swallows of his immediately, taking his pain as a divine sign that he hadn’t drank enough yet. His eyes burned and he blew out slowly- Mark had made them a bit strong this time. And it was different- this one was navy blue, nearly black.

“What’s this one?”

“An el diablo. Mostly. Pretty much, it’s blackberry juice and tequila.”

“It’s delicious,” he said honestly. “But tequila? You aren’t trying to take advantage of a poor lodger, are you?”

Mark laughed. “Damn, I’m busted. I was really hoping to get you super drunk so I could hook up with you.”

“To satisfy your ear fetish!”

“To satisfy my ear fetish, yes!” Mark cried. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos if you like it! Comment any feedback, PLEASE. If you spot something that doesn't seem right, or have any advice on how to improve, let me know. I really like to hear when things don't seem right, because if I don't know I'm doing wrong, then how am I supposed to improve? Feel free to comment with anything you feel like saying, I'm a chatty person!


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